Target Practice
by Slayergirl
Summary: One-shot, set just after the end of Club Dead, Sookie follows through on her promise to teach Pam to fire a shotgun. The two of them conspire to make it an opportunity to tease Eric. NO FEMSLASH, just a lot of silliness. Implied E/S, minimal implied E/P, and minimal implied P/S only if you squint very hard. Rated T for the use of the gun and the implications...


**A/N: Inspired by Pam's request to Sookie at the end of **_**Club Dead **_**that she'd teach her how to fire a shotgun. Please don't try this at home – apart from anything else, although I know how to fire and break a gun, the majority of the information in here was gleaned from WikiHow, so I can't be sure how accurate it is! Don't handle a gun unless you know what you're doing, or can get an expert to show you – someone might get hurt.**

**Happy Easter to you all, and I hope you enjoy this bit of silliness!**

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"Eric said we could use the spare storeroom to practise, on one proviso," said Pam over her shoulder as she led me down the stairs into Fangtasia's basement – not actually the sex dungeon the usual clientele fantasised about, but the normal stuff you'd find in a bar's basement – storage areas filled with extra tables and chairs, signage for special events, mops and buckets in the cleaning cupboard, and so on.

"Which is?" I asked. I'd learnt to check in advance what vampires wanted, just in case it happened to be my blood.

"He wants to watch."

I'd clearly been around Eric too much, because my initial reaction was to blurt out, "I bet he does!"

She gave me a fangy grin as she reached the door. "I hope it won't disappoint him," she said with a wink.

I had a moment's misgiving, remembering Pam's reaction to Eric and Bill scrapping over me on my own hearth – winding them up about Alcide's gift of my wrap by asking if she could borrow it if she borrowed my red dress. Pam loved Eric to bits, I knew, but I'd also cottoned on to the fact that she really got a kick out of winding him up. I didn't doubt that she really, honestly, did want to know how to use a shotgun, but equally, I could see how this might have the potential for… well, let's just say, I _have_ read some Freud, okay?

And Eric's gun was always loaded and ready to fire, let's put it that way.

Not that I knew, obviously. I tried hard not to think about that… incident… in Jackson, in Russell Edgington's mansion. Apart from anything else, Eric was around somewhere, and could pick up on my feelings, thanks to having given me his blood. The last thing I needed was for him to pick up on any lusty or warm fuzzy feelings I might have towards him – and I admit, there were a few of both floating around.

I quashed those thoughts firmly. "I'm surprised he doesn't want to join in," I said dryly, raising an eyebrow, much as Eric himself often did.

Pam's eyes lit up, realising from my look that I was going to play along. "Perhaps he will," she grinned, opening the door to the room in question.

He was already in there, of course, lounging on a chair as if it was his throne, up in the main area. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but only just. He nodded to Pam in greeting, and smouldered at me through half-lidded eyes; I did my best to ignore it, giving him a cool nod in response. If that bothered him, he didn't let it show.

"This room will suffice?" he asked me.

I looked around; it was a pretty big room, so there wouldn't be too much of a problem with ricochet (bullets might do them no lasting harm, but they'd make a mess of me; not that we were using live ammunition, of course, but it still might hurt like a bitch if I got hit accidentally). "Should be fine," I said with a shrug. "We'll only be firing blanks, after all."

If I'd thought that might embarrass Eric, I was wrong, and had clearly been thinking of someone entirely different, as he merely raised that damnable eyebrow and said wryly, "Some of us have no choice in the matter, more's the pity."

Behind me, Pam snickered quietly; he narrowed his eyes at her, but said nothing.

"Trust me, that's no bad thing," I shot back. "Firing live rounds would get you into a whole heap of trouble." I fought down the urge to giggle at the thought of a handful of fanged mini-Erics running around Fangtasia in diapers.

Up went the eyebrow again. "You'd be surprised," he said mildly, but left it at that.

I turned to my all-to-eager pupil. "Okay," I said, hefting the shotgun into both hands. "Before we get started on the fun part, you need to know how to load, clean, and care for your weapon."

The look on Pam's face said that she thought _this_ part sounded like a lot of fun, too. I didn't dare look at Eric for fear of bursting into giggles. "So, where do we start?" she asked, bending over the gun, and running her fingers lightly over the barrel.

I bit the inside of my cheek. "Okay, so the first thing you need to do is to empty the gun – trying to clean the gun while it's loaded is just asking for trouble."

Her lips twitched, but she nodded seriously. "How do you do that?"

"Always handle it as if it was loaded," I said, trying to keep the laughter from my voice. "Point the muzzle in a safe direction – away from anything you might not want to hit." She was biting her lip, her eyes redder than normal – I realised it was from tears of laughter she was trying hard to suppress. "And make sure you keep your finger off the trigger."

I took a deep breath, and Pam swallowed a couple of times until she'd got herself back under control. "Finger off the trigger. Got it."

"Okay, so, now you need to unload it. This is a pump-action shotgun, so you need to press the bolt release, and cycle the pump action until nothing more comes out of the barrel. That way you know the magazine and chamber are empty."

Her eyes widened innocently. "Show me how?"

Oh, God. I gritted my teeth, and took the shotgun back from her. _You can do this, Stackhouse, _I told myself firmly. _You're no chicken. _"So, like this," I said, making sure Eric had a good view of what I was doing as I demonstrated. I couldn't help but notice that he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his fangs down, eyes slightly glazed. "And remember to keep your ammunition stored separately from your gun."

She nodded, as if in all seriousness. "Okay."

"Now you've emptied it, you need to clean your gun," I said.

"Of course."

"For the most part, you don't need to do too much to clean it, in fact normally no stripping's required." I took a deep breath. "Just wipe down all the components with a paper towel to make sure they're free of the – ah – residue. Make sure you wipe the ejector and the area around the chamber."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Eric was moving restlessly as I demonstrated to Pam exactly how this should be achieved. I covered the rest of the cleaning process as quickly as I could. "Finally, you need to apply lubricant to the relevant parts."

There was a growl from the corner of the room. Pam gave me a sly wink. "Which parts need oiling?"

"Check with the manual for the gun you eventually buy, but on this one, the rails for the bolt and the bolt itself. But be careful to keep the oil away from the firing pin housing – if there's a build-up there, it could stop your gun from firing."

"Don't want that," smiled Pam fangily.

"Definitely not," I grinned back. "Then you need to wipe your gun down to remove any excess oil."

"And then put it away?"

"Mm-hmm. You should fire and clean your gun regularly to make sure it stays in good working order." I'd no doubt that was Eric's excuse, anyway.

"I'm sure," she said dryly. "Anything else?"

"Always wash your hands after cleaning your gun," I said seriously.

She wrinkled her nose daintily. "Of course; I wouldn't want to get all that… stuff… on my clothes, accidentally. I've no doubt it would stain."

"Oh, yes," I nodded. "It would stain." Especially on blue silk boxers, my mind helpfully reminded me.

We shared a look. By this time, Eric was quite definitely squirming, gripping the arms of the chair so hard the wood gave a creak of protestation. "So that's all there is to cleaning and maintenance?"

"Given I'm not going to strip it down -" there was a whimper from the corner "- that's all for the moment. So, now we get onto actually firing the gun." I ran my fingers up and down the barrel of the gun. "But first, of course, you have to load it."

Eric muttered a soft curse in what I guess was his native language; Pam winked. "I guess that's not much trouble?" she asked with an angelic smile.

"No, not at all. It's very straightforward," I answered, showing her.

"Oh, very simple!" she exclaimed.

"So, the safety rules are much the same as for cleaning the gun," I said, going over them again.

"Yes, yes, I remember," she said impatiently. "I have vampire recall, Sookie; tell me once and I will remember it."

"Okay, but it's important that you remember that you shouldn't just go pointing your gun at anyone," I said meaningfully; her eyebrows shot up as she realised what I was doing. "And always assume the gun is loaded."

"Oh, I always do," she murmured.

"Likewise," I said with a conspiratorial smile. "So, to fire the gun, you have to hold it right. Hold it with your non-firing hand roughly in the middle of the handstock, cradling it firmly between your thumb and forefinger. Then with your firing hand, hold the grip of the gun behind the trigger. Hold it firmly but gently, as if you were giving it a light handshake." I moved her hands into position, standing behind her – easy enough, as she was smaller than me. I guided her hands up into the correct position to fire towards the target on the wall. "Feet shoulder width apart, knees flexed slightly, turning a little, like this."

"Like this?" she asked, shifting against me. Eric moaned, wriggling in his chair, shutting his eyes tightly.

"Yup. Now, flick off the safety, aim…" she did both, "…and fire."

The shot rang out, and Eric's hips jerked helplessly as Pam's blank hit the bull's-eye.

She turned to me and grinned. "I guess the gun has to be cleaned again, now a shot's been fired, yes?"

Unable to hold it in any longer, I giggled. "Well, yes, you know, it's best to keep your weapon clean."

"You two," growled Eric, his eyes still closed, "are evil, evil women. Don't think I don't know what you were doing."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Eric," drawled Pam with a smug, self-satisfied smile. "I was merely trying to learn a new skill from my friend Sookie."

"Mm-hmm," he replied. "Perhaps so, though I doubt that's all there was to it; I know you too well. But there is certainly something still to address here."

"Which is?" I asked innocently, glancing at Pam.

He opened his eyes, finally, and gave me a sly, naughty smile. "All of this begs the question… which of you two beauties is going to clean the gun?"

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**A/N: Well, come on. I had to give Eric the last word!**


End file.
